My Star
by Riverflame
Summary: AU: Arwen comes with the Three Hunters, plus Gandalf, arriving in Edoras. Éowyn can't stop watching her, and Arwen could know why better than Éowyn herself.


Title: My Star

Rating: PG-13 for adult themes, female-female relationship

AN: This is a slightly AU (Alternate Universe) fic, in which Arwen comes with the Fellowship and stays with Aragorn the whole way through, arriving in Edoras as part of the now Four Hunters and with Gandalf. Takes place only in Edoras. The first femslash I ever wrote, and written in under 48 hours, so it might not be so great. I wrote it a while ago, too, when there were only about four Arwen/Eowyn stories here at .

Also, there's a bit of fanon in here that I've seen in a couple different stories: the "elves' ears are a pleasure spot" thing. I know it's completely untrue canonically, but it seemed fun to play with.

-----

She is the most beautiful female I have ever seen. I have not seen many, leading my confined life, but I know she would be the most beautiful still, even if I were to travel for hundreds of miles. She is an elf, I know. I have seen her ears. They are so finely pointed, smooth, like a leaf - no, a shell. I have heard that elven ears are very sensitive, to sound and to touch. I wonder if this is true? I could never ask her, I would be too ashamed. Such a plain girl as me next to such elegance, such perfection. Dark hair cascading down her back, like a nighttime river, against pale ivory skin. Eyes like stars, shining, yet when she turns her head from the light they are dark again. She looks sad and hopeful at the same time. What for?

Has she noticed me watching her? Ever since she came with the other four I have stalked her, eyes following every movement, every flicker. She enchants me with her dark beauty, the like of which I have never seen. My land is full of fair-haired people, and dark ones are rare. Besides, no one is as beautiful as she.

-

So many strange Men are here, as I have not seen before. Pale hair they have, and their faces are worn and worried. Their king looks grieved as well - for what? I wonder. Anything in particular? Or just the deteriorating state of his land, his people? I do not know, I cannot ask for courtesy.

A woman stands behind him, as though in support. Her hair is pale as well, but with a golden hue, a more beautiful gold than the hall. She watches me, I can feel her eyes constantly. I am not sure of her intentions, but I feel that they are not ill. She does not have the look of a spiteful person. Her face is innocent, her eyes wide and blue. The color the sky as it realizes the sun is setting, and turns more vivid, slightly darker, as though to entice the sun into staying longer - or perhaps to welcome the night. She looks grieved as well. Standing there in her white dress, she is pure, the epitome of innocence.

And although she appears so simple on the outside, by the gifts and teachings of my people I know and can see that she is beautiful, she is radiant.

I wonder if she even knows this?

-

At the meal, I serve the guests, passing around the mead cup. She takes it from me and our hands touch. The feeling of her smooth, pale skin is like a mild shock, sending ripples up my arm and through my body. She glances at me quickly, and our eyes meet. Hers are questioning, and mysterious. I blushed slightly, and looked down, embarrassed. Too beautiful, will never care anything about me, I'm an idiot to be forever looking at her. Even now I am looking at her shoes, not my own. They're boots, with intricate designs worked into the leather. When I know she is finished with the cup, I take it - carefully avoiding her touch - and rush out of the room , to the kitchens. She was the last person, so I am not being absurdly rude. Only a little, and I am very sorry, because I hadn't meant to be rude to her by running off. I hope she will understand. I will not go back out there tonight, during supper. I will eat in the kitchens for tonight.

-

I wish she hadn't run. I want to know why my fingers tingled when their touched hers, I want to brush up against her again, to find out what was so interesting, so pleasant about that skin. I know she felt something, because when I looked up at her she looked at me, and her eyes spoke of a sort of fear and awe. It's like she's never seen an elf before.

-

Maybe one of the reasons she enchants me so is that I have never seen an elf before. She is not the only elf I've seen; one of her companions is one of them as well, and he is just as beautiful as she, in a different way. He is more like to my people, fair and with a noble air, almost royal. She draws me, plain moth that I am, and she like a flame in the midst of this impending darkness. There is something about her that sets her apart, but it is something other than her beauty. I should like to speak with her, sometime. I just cannot work up the courage to approach her.

After supper, they retire to their rooms, but I stay in the hall. I am hoping to catch a glimpse of her, to actually meet her. I can sense that she is near. I step into a shadowy corner as the hall grows dark, except for patches of moonlight from the windows.

-

What can we do here, in Rohan? We are but four people and a wizard. Estel says that we can offer our services as warriors, but he forgets that I would rather mend than rend. He says he understands this, and in a way he does, but I can see that his heart lies in the battle, in the glory of a warrior. He is so much unlike me, especially in this way. He would be much better suited to another warrior, not a gentle woman such as me. I would hold him back from his battles that he holds so dear, and we would be discontent. But he loves me, like life itself. I love him, I do, but only as a brother. Maybe once it was more, but I am not sure of that. I could never tell him though. To lose my love, even if it had never truly existed, would kill him - because, after all, he loves me like life itself.

I sit in my corner for a long time, thinking about the future and the present and even a little of the past, when I hear movement. I search the room, now only lit by moonlight, and I see a pale figure enter the hall. She walks over to a window to stare out. I can hardly contain a gasp of surprise as the moonlight strikes her hair and turns it pale, a gleaming silver with only a hint of the gold it once was. Her skin's palor is aggrandized, making her appear almost a ghost. Yet I know she is very much living. She looks somewhat troubled, yet peaceful. Silently, slowly, I rise and cross the hall. She does not even notice me when I stand next to her, so deep in thought she is. Her transformation amazes me, from a simple golden-haired girl, enthralled with watching the object of her curiosity, to this illuminated beauty that does not even notice she is standing beside it, me, her, so lost in her own thoughts. I gaze at her for a short time, marveling and laughing inwardly at what a change nighttime and moonlight brings - I am the entranced, and she the dazzling beauty now! - before gently resting my hand on her shoulder.

She jumps and spins to face me, eyes wide in fear and surprise and our positions back to where they began, our minds returning to the day. When she recognizes me, she gapes, then clamps her mouth shut and blushes. Quickly curtsying, she turns to flee, but I call out after her.

"No, wait!"

She halts, wary. I do not want to frighten her away, I only want to talk, so I do not move towards her.

"What is your name?" I ask softly, as though to a skittish doe. She seems to consider me with her eyes for a few seconds before replying in a low, musical voice.

"Éowyn."

-

She shimmers as she stands there. Why does she want to know my name? I look at her face - she radiates honesty and sincerety, so I tell her. She is standing close, so close I could reach out and touch her - but no, I can't, mustn't think such things. But she looks so soft, standing there, and lonely. My eyes travel over her, from her eyes to her dark lips to her pointed ears. Elves are perfection.

"Why do you stare so?"

I snap back to attention. She is smiling slightly, and I blush for the umpteenth time. Of all the questions she could have asked, why this one? But I had expected it, right from the beginning.

"Because," I start, "because... you are beautiful. Lady." I am looking down at the floor when her finger lifts my chin.

"You say I am beautiful. All elves are. But have you ever thought, White Lady Éowyn, that you are beautiful too?"

-

She gazes up at me, astonished. My finger is tingling from the contact, and I think I have an idea why now. I won't dare to think it, not yet. I run the digit along her jawbone, gently, feeling the smoothness of her skin against mine. She shivers and touches my hand with her own, moving down now to touch the fabric of my sleeve, the inside of my wrist. I know it must be sending ripples through both of us, by the look on her face. She takes my hand and asks a question of her own. "Why are you sad?"

This triggers something in me, and I tell her about my doubts and fears of our quest, and some about Estel. She listens patiently, caring about what I feel, almost. When I finish I ask about her, what she is afraid of so much. She tells about a vile man named Gríma, and a brother that she loves so much. Sometimes she sheds a few tears, and I want to hold her in my arms like a lost and lonely child.

-

Why am I telling Arwen these things? I hardly even know her - but I am not even sure of that. She feels like someone I've known all my life, even though I met her just today. She told me about herself, so why shouldn't I tell her about myself? Besides, it feels so good to get these fears out of my mind, telling them to another person.

"I feel like the walls are closing in on me sometimes. When I am alone, in the dark, and I try to think of ways to escape without hurting anyone. My uncle, the king, he needs me. The people need me, because I was the one they looked to when the king was still ill." I am crying again as I say this, with relief, with pain. "I hope and I hope, but I know I cannot leave. I am trapped by their need, my obligation."

-

How can this pale, fragile, small woman before me carry such a weight on her shoulders? She is like a lily, made of steel and mithril; so graceful and yet so strong.

"I dream about going out into the world and making a name for myself as a shield maiden, but I am not sure that is my calling. Still, it is what I am best at. Fighting." She looks at me wistfully as I say this.

-

"You would be a better lover and wife for Estel than I ever could be."

I shake my head. "I do not love him, he does not love me."

"Who do you love, Lady Éowyn?" she asks, eyes questioning. She fingers a lock of my hair.

"Like he loves you? I..." I think deeply about this, and realize that I have not loved anybody this way. I have been so detached from other people, trying to keep the peace and keep Gríma at bay, that I have not loved anybody. Except... maybe... but no... "I... I do not know." A tear runs down my cheek again, and I am angry at it, for giving away my confusion and sadness at this question. She sees and takes me in her arms. Any other time I would have resisted such comfort, but I am so tired, and this is different, somehow. I rest my head against her shoulder, her fingertips making my back tingle, her warmth soothing, consoling. She begins to sing a little elvish tune softly into my ear.

_Tiro! el eria e mor_

_i lir en el luitha 'uren_

_Ai! Aniron lle, elamin_

"What does it mean?" I murmur sleepily into her shoulder, eyes half-lidded. Her voice has such an intoxicating, narcotic effect on me. She does not answer at first, merely tightening her hold before she lets go and I step back a bit. We are still very close to each other, so close I can feel her warm breath on my face, giving me goosebumps.

I raise my hand and, like a whisper, run a fingertip up and over the tip of her pointed ear. She closes her own eyes and half-moans, "Do you know how good that feels?" My reply is to do the same to the other ear with my other hand. She moans quietly, and whispers, "This is what it means." With that she leans down and brushes my lips with hers innocently, then pulls her head back to see my reaction, her face betraying no emotion.

I blink, surprised but not displeased. I look up at her, my feelings in my eyes, wanting her to know this, not hiding any more, giving her the answer to her question that I have just found the answer to. My own lips press against hers affirming, my fingers still on her eartips. After I break this simple touch we move together into a real kiss, and I can taste her on my lips.

-

It is almost too good to be true, and I expect to come out of my reverie any minute now, but it feels too real. Did she know that elves' ears are an intense pleasure spot? It doesn't matter, all that matters right now is that we love and desire each other. She is cool and sweet, her lips, her tongue. Breaking apart ot breathe and coming together quickly again, over and over. Feeling our bodies pressed together, leg to leg, breast to breast, creating heat between us in this cold night.

Now that I know I love her, I'll never be able to lose her. Even when she dies, mortal that she is. Giving up my immortality? I could do that.

I mustn't think about the future now, though. Live in the moment.

Valar, what a moment.

-------------

translation:

"Look! a star rises out of the darkness

the song of the star enchants my heart

ah! I desire you, my star"

lyrics slightly altered from their original version, by Enya. song is called Aniron.


End file.
